Fair Weather Enemies Read online

  “Daft but harmless, Mr. Pugh said. Are you afraid for your safety?”

  Unwilling to show weakness to her lifelong enemy, she shook her head. “No. But I do fear for yours. That brood sow may take amorous interest in you.”

  He snorted with amusement. “I should only be so fortunate.”

  “Got room for one up here,” said Gormley. He patted the seat beside him. Jane briefly considered the lesser of two evils—a madman or a herd of swine. Before she could decide, Barlow stepped toward Gormley.

  “I believe Mrs. Byrd should have the seat. She is quite above rubbing elbows with pigs.”

  Aunt Hester stood straight and lifted her chin. “Nonsense, sir. As a member of polite society, I rub elbows with pigs regularly. My lovely niece should take the seat.”

  Jane shook her head. “Oh, no, Auntie. I am quite content to ride alongside you. Perhaps someone more delicate should take the seat. Adam?”

  “And ruin my reputation as a wastrel? I think not. Mr. Barlow should take the seat.”

  Barlow gazed at Aunt Hester. “I believe I must decline and instead offer my protection to the ladies.” He extended an arm to her. “May I help you aboard, Mrs. Byrd?”

  Aunt Hester flushed again. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  She slipped her hand tentatively into the crook of his offered elbow. He led her to the rear of the wagon and helped her climb through the gate. Jane watched with fascination. Abruptly self-conscious, she looked at Adam. He returned her regard.

  “I would offer you my hand, Miss Hancock, if I did not think it would offend you.” As the awkwardly worded phrase left his lips, his cheeks flushed. He had clearly not intended the statement to sound like an offer of marriage. With ears heating, she hurried toward the rear of the wagon.

  “If it is all the same to you, Mr. Ashford, I’d rather go back to scrubbing pots and barking into the sea.”

  She immediately regretted her biting response. She climbed up into the wagon alone, wishing that sometimes she could keep her mouth shut.

  Chapter Eight

  Like virtuous knights of old, Adam and Barlow stood guard between the moody brood sow and the ladies. Fortunately, the large pig seemed content to remain motionless while emitting periodic grunts. As the wagon bumped along toward evening, Adam shoved aside the snuffling nose of an inquisitive piglet to better view Jane. She sat near the front of the wagon engaged in low conversation with Hester. Sleeping piglets sprawled around her, and one lay nestled beneath her hand. He did not know what might be considered proper attire for traveling with swine, but Jane’s appearance transcended her situation. A well-worn riding habit of faded blue covered most of a sturdy cotton walking dress, illuminating the blue of her eyes. Her prominent cheekbones, narrow nose, and dimpled chin seemed appropriate to a miller’s daughter—delicately bold. Not unlike her general demeanor, he decided. He did not notice Jane’s gaze until she spoke to him.

  “Do you wish to say something, sir?”

  He cut his eyes away quickly to hide the fact that he had been staring. Her gentle laugh informed him that she already knew. He looked her way again. “Would you find my presence overly odious if I joined you for a bit of conversation? I have exhausted my discussion points with Mr. Barlow and the brood sow.”

  He motioned toward the solicitor and the massive pig, both of whom were sleeping soundly. Jane blinked three times in rapid succession but retained the smile. Her hand patted the wagon bed next to her. He moved to her side and sat, with the blissful piglet as a buffer between them.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “I believe I will rest now,” said Hester overly loudly. She rolled away to feign sleep. Jane peeked at her aunt and shook her head. She turned to regard Adam with a steady confident gaze that he found lacking in many women her age. He reluctantly commended her for that.

  “So…what might we discuss?”

  He glanced down at the sleeping piglet. “I suppose we should begin with your new friend. He seems a bit young for you.”

  “Sir,” she said with mock umbrage. “I must begin by offering offense on behalf of the pig, as ‘he’ is a ‘she’.”

  “My apologies to the pig, then. Perhaps the odor has dulled my powers of observation.”

  She nodded. “On behalf of Lily, I accept.”

  “Lily?”

  “She has taken a particular liking to me, it seems. I cannot very well continue calling her ‘piglet’ as if her regard meant nothing.”

  He laughed unexpectedly. “Of course. Very sensible. One should not slight a pig unnecessarily. Unfortunately for me, the sow seems rather disinterested in my friendship.”

  “And this disappoints you?”

  “Immensely. I crave nothing more than the sentimental regard of those in my company.”

  She cocked her head and frowned. “Even those predisposed to despising the very ground on which you walk?”

  “Especially those.”

  “Why, may I ask? Is it not natural for opponents to maintain a healthy disdain for one another?”

  Adam looked away, uncomfortable with the directness of her questions. “I suppose it is.” Then he cut his eyes toward her. “After all, how could we remain enemies if we ceased hating each other?”

  His comment appeared to startle her. “We? I was speaking of piglets. Now, you talk of us. This all seems rather unexpected.”

  “Right. But let us not speak of piglets. Let us instead discuss the merits of remaining enemies. After you, Jane.”

  She placed a finger dramatically against her chin. “The prospect of despising you gets me out of bed in the morning. I rise each day thinking, ‘how might I ruin Adam Ashford today?’ Your turn, sir.”

  He pursed his lips in thought. “My disdain for you serves as a good reference point. Having a reliable enemy allows me to see all others in a better light. It allows me to sort people into two convenient categories—my enemy and everyone else.”

  “Should not your categories be more nuanced?”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as friend of your enemy, enemy of your enemy, enemy of your friend, and those you truly love? To name just a few?”

  The sparkle of her eyes made clear her amusement with the discussion. This pleased him, though he did not know why. “I see your point. Perhaps I should reconsider my categories. But see here, we have identified only two merits of maintaining a healthy hatred for each other. Surely, there are others.”

  She nodded agreement. “There is at least one more.”

  “And that is?”

  “Convenient scapegoating. Having an enemy tells me whom I might blame for all the ills of my life. For all the ills of the world, actually. Without a proper enemy, I might be forced to consider my own role in such unpleasant things. How terribly inconvenient.”

  He chuckled again. “Well said. I, too, find comfort in having such a readily available scapegoat. Keeps me from the need for self-reflection. And everyone knows that gentlemen abhor such distressing and taxing thoughts.”

  “Just as I suspected.” She giggled, much to his surprise. An awkward pause overcame them, as often happens when conversation trends perilously toward painful truths. He inhaled a breath to rekindle the discussion.

  “I have my letter with me. Do you still have yours?”

  “Of course. Do you not trust me?”

  He hesitated only briefly. “I do. However, you do not appear to return the favor.”

  She looked away quickly. A half minute passed before she replied. “I am still deciding. I can promise no more than that.”

  Disappointment flooded him. Despite the animosity between them, he wanted her to trust him but understood why she could not. Distrust between them had been cooked into their respective family stews long before either of them had been born. He gathered the dark emotion into a neat ball and stuffed it into the depth
s of his heart where he regularly discarded such things. He forced a smile instead.

  “I should be the one to distrust you, Jane, after what you did to me on my twenty-first birthday.”

  She whipped her head to face him. “What did I do to you, Mr. Ashford?”

  Her eyes betrayed her. She knew precisely of what he spoke. Nevertheless, he took pleasure in reminding her. He assumed an appropriately grim expression for the telling.

  “I’d invited everyone to the estate to celebrate my birthday. Friends, future friends, acquaintances, a couple of rivals, and a bevy of young ladies I wished to impress. I had anticipated the gathering for weeks. Mostly the gathering of the young ladies. I spared no expense. I instructed the head housekeeper to shirk other duties to ensure a perfect day.”

  Jane’s hand rose to cover a smile. Yes, she knew.

  “Then, when the big day arrived, do you know what happened?”

  Her giggle confirmed that she did, and still found great amusement in it.

  “Of course, you do,” he continued. “Imagine my surprise when my houseguests and I were roused from slumber by the chaos of the staff attempting to corral a herd of goats that had invaded the lower level during the night.”

  Jane laughed behind her hand. “I can only imagine!”

  “I am certain you can more than imagine, as I strongly suspect you were responsible.”

  Me?” she said with mock surprise. “A herd of goats in your house, you say? On your birthday?”

  “Yes. They destroyed everything. Decorations. Pastries. Flowers. Sofa cushions. Worse, they industriously converted all of those items into an unending carpet of goat pellets, which they deposited upon all surfaces.”

  “All surfaces?” She surrendered any attempt to hide her mirth.

  “Yes, all surfaces. How a goat could defecate atop a fireplace mantel, I shall never know. We did not find that particular offering for a week until the festering odor led us to it.”

  “Oh, Adam! That sounds truly awful.”

  “Absolutely. And that was not the worst of it.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I do say. Afterward, every one of those young ladies I had worked so diligently to impress believed me to be a complete idiot.”

  She slapped both hands to her cheeks in faux dismay. “And you believe me responsible for this dastardly act?”

  He nodded while failing to maintain his grim expression. “I do. No one else possessed the motivation or cunning to concoct the deed, let alone carry it out. Do you deny it?”

  Her hands fell from her cheeks to land in her lap. She dipped her chin. After a moment, she cut mischievous eyes up at him. “In truth, sir, I do not know which was more difficult. Rounding up your goats, driving them to your house, or ducking the head housekeeper until she retired for the evening. Keeping eleven goats quiet can prove quite difficult.”

  Adam raised his arms in triumph. “A confession at last! I knew it was you.” He lowered his arms and gazed at her sadly. “You thoroughly ruined my party, Jane.”

  Her face fell again, this time with seemingly genuine shame. “I apologize. I should not have done it.”

  “No apology necessary. It was the most memorable birthday of my entire life. I will never forget it.”

  “And the young ladies believe you to be an idiot still?”

  “Yes.”

  “Intelligent girls.”

  Adam frowned and prepared to parry her jab. Before he could do so, she retrieved her letter from her ever-present reticule. “I am ready, sir.”

  “Ready for what?”

  She breathed a sigh. “Ready to exchange contents of the letters.”

  He laughed. “Now you trust me?”

  “Not as far as I can toss you. However, my curiosity threatens to overwhelm me.”

  Adam nodded agreement and pulled his letter from his coat pocket. “Very well. Why don’t we read them in alternation?”

  “Agreed.” She opened her letter and read the first line, already familiar to him. “Liverpool, Leeds, a fortress unseen.”

  He followed suit. “Edinburgh, Glasgow, the castle between.”

  “A cross to denote the point to set sail.”

  “An arrow revealing the start of the trail.”

  “The way of the journey the ancient keep knows.”

  “The prints of retreating invaders it shows.”

  “Prostrate to pray where a king’s soul took flight.”

  “Withdraw from the darkness, return to the light.”

  “Pivot to ponder the radiance of day.”

  “Look to the archer revealing the way.”

  “To long-hallowed ground of ancient giants.”

  “Who offered to men and to kings great defiance.”

  “From tower to ruins now set a due course.”

  “To witness the kingdom bereft of a horse.”

  “Strike toward the land where the day comes undone.”

  “A rise, a circumference, an army of stone.”

  “On from the midst of the sentinels sally.”

  “Forth and forthwith along five o’clock valley.”

  “Betwixt water’s edge and the hip of Goliath.”

  “Make for the marsh where the ancient fort lieth.”

  “Ford and run southward, a westerly way.”

  “Find all angels surveying a proud bird of prey.”

  “Seek, then, thereafter the pockmarked old man.”

  “And trust unto Chance for the rest of the plan.”

  As Adam read the final line, he glanced up to find Jane smirking. Simultaneously, they burst out laughing.

  “Do you understand any of it?” he asked.

  Her laugh faded into a sigh. “Not a word. It seems the ramblings of a madman. I only pray that context will reveal the meaning.”

  “I quite agree.”

  Before either could say another word, Mr. Gormley cried out with panic. “A coin! A coin! I need a coin!”

  Adam jumped to his feet in alarm to find the man standing on the driver’s seat facing them while the mules continued forward, oblivious of their addled driver. Struck by Mr. Gormley’s urgency, Adam fished a thruppence from his pocket and tossed it to him. Gormley peered at the coin, scowled, and tossed it over his shoulder in disgust.

  “Not copper, you dolt! Silver! I need a silver coin! Immediately, before it is too late!”

  Jane stood swiftly and pressed into Mr. Gormley’s palm the coin Mr. Pugh had given her at the docks. He studied it and grinned. Without a word, he flung it wildly into the falling darkness.

  “Why did you do that?” Jane asked.

  “Did not the angels tell you?”

  Jane glanced at Adam with wide eyes. He returned a casual wink. “Of course, sir. But perhaps you might remind us.”

  “Oh, yes.” Gormley settled back into his seat and recaptured the reins before twisting toward them. “To keep away the leprechauns. Nasty little buggers. That coin will keep them busy searching for a good while.”

  Adam and Jane locked eyes before bursting into laughter. Jane put her back to the man and mouthed the word “daft.”

  “Do not laugh, young ’uns.” Mr. Gormley sounded offended. “It works every time. Not once have the little devils raided my wagon.”

  Yes, the man was daft. But also amusing. Adam bowed low. “My apologies, sir. How can I make amends?”

  “Thought you’d never ask, lad. Light the lantern here and walk the road in front of the mules so they don’t stumble in the darkness. We’ve another four hours to Carlisle, after all.”

  Four hours later, Adam’s amusement was a distant memory.

  Chapter Nine

  At breakfast the next morning, Jane perused the interior of the drab inn and grimaced. “So, this is where decrepit inns go to die.
”

  Perched on the edge of a chair with his boots off, Adam rubbed his feet while emitting a succession of low groans, apparently ignoring her passive complaint. Mr. Barlow heard, though.

  “Owing to the late hour of our arrival last night, this seemed the best we could do.”

  “The place is not so bad,” said Aunt Hester. “I find it…quaint.”

  If she had not wrinkled her nose when commenting, Jane might have believed her. “Quaintness must rely on the eye of the beholder, Auntie. This hovel leaves me pining for the galley of the Wayfarer.”

  “Might I remind you of your desire to save money,” said Barlow. “The price was certainly right.”

  “If you consider paying for bed lice a bargain.”

  Adam shot abruptly to his feet. “Surely, this is superior to debtor’s prison!”

  She jumped in surprise at his visceral reaction. Annoyance painted his features. The long walk the night before must have stretched him to his limits. Nevertheless, she could not let his outburst go unchallenged.

  “You would like that, would you not? For me to enter debtor’s prison while you settle comfortably on your debt-free estate with a new wife in your arms?”

  His annoyance appeared to fade into a soft, sad frown. He shook his head and sat again. “No. I would not. I cannot stomach the prospect of your imprisonment. Such a thing should not happen to anyone.”

  “Even to your enemy?”

  “Even to my enemy.”

  She dipped her chin in acknowledgment. However, having let loose her bothersome sass, she struggled to corral it. She peered at him with growing amusement. “Then if we succeed, will you simply give me the gold without the formality of a coin toss?”

  A slight smile graced his lips. “Not a chance. But I commend your attempt.”

  Barlow leaned forward and drew them into a discreet huddle. “I suggest we not discuss gold in the hearing of others. I have seen what the prospect of riches does to desperate people. We should not invite trouble.”

  “Capital suggestion, Mr. Barlow,” said Hester. “I hear tell of a lovely commons area adjacent the castle. Perhaps we may converse there in private.”